The Cause and Effect Saga - Extra 2: Aeonian
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Pain and trials are inevitable yet passive. They aren't like family, which is aeonian, ever-lasting—so long as you work for it. None work harder than the Hamato clan, and this Valentine's, they celebrate more than just romance. [V-Day Special; DonxMelody, RaphxNia]
1. Tradition

**Full Summary: **Pain and trials are inevitable, but eventually they pass. They aren't like family, which is aeonian, ever-lasting, so long as you work for it. None work harder than the Hamto clan, and this Valentine's, they celebrate more than romance: they celebrate their strong bonds.  
**Genre:** Family, Romance  
**Rating:** Teen for safety (though I don't think anyone slips to bad)  
**Universe:** Set between the mini-books "Sunrise" and "Cause Worth Celebrating".

**Author's Notes:** I know I promised this on the 8th. I'm SO SORRY! However, real life kicked me square in the face with sickness and the sickness of my family, so I had no time to write. It's here now. That's all that matters. Right? Instead of ending on V-Day (my plan), it starts then. Kinda ruins my intent, honestly, but what's done is done. I'll be posting a chapter a day for a week. :)

Look forward to fluff. Brother fluff. Sister fluff. Parent/child fluff. Whatnot. Duckiepray is my BETA, and quite amazing. Thanks, girl! Now...Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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**Chapter 01 - ****Tradition**

Hamato Splinter could not hide any amusement. His daughter Nia looked utterly dumbfounded, and he chuckled when she surveyed the group seated at the Lair's dining table.

"R—really?" she asked in a gentle voice, her fork lowering to her half-eaten meal. "Not even once?"

"Well," Michelangelo contributed while rubbing his wide chin, "there was this _one_ time Donny sent flowers to April at Second Time Around."

Instantly, a slap erupted—not from the usual suspect, either. "I—I had that sent from _all_ of us, Gumbo!" Donatello snapped beside his baby brother. His mate's looming stare could be felt on his other side; however, the cyborg remained silent, eating casually from the jar of pepperoncinis she favored over Michelangelo's chicken and rice.

"Wasn't there also the time ya sent her—"

Donatello silenced Raphael with a pointed glare across the full table. "How about the year _you_ helped Casey pick out a present? Nothing says 'Happy Valentine's' like booze and a thong."

The red-masked mutant shrugged his broad shoulders, leaning further back against his wooden seat on Nia's right. Splinter caught his soft-spoken daughter facepalm, her cheeks colored by either embarrassment or dread. He chuckled at that too, despite how the motion sent pains through his cancerous joints.

"S—so you guys really don't do anything for Valentine's?"

"Not much reason to, ya know?" Michelangelo replied. He flashed the black-haired artist a wry grin then stretched his arms behind his head. "Until you came along, we were just a group of bachelors seeing who can burp the loudest."

"Which is totally my title," Raphael added under his breath.

He received a challenging look from the nunchaku master beyond the salt and pepper shakers between them, though Donatello spoke up before the youngest Hamato spat out a dare. "What about you, Nia? You seem pretty surprised by it."

The teal-eyed human blinked. "Wh—what? Oh. Not really. Well, kinda. It's just that…"

"Just what?" Michelangelo offered.

"Well." Shuffling while seated, Nia pushed her arms into the hem of her purple sweater, glancing at everyone. "In my family Valentine's is a big tradition. F—for as long as I can remember, Daddy would take me and Mama out. We knew in the morning to get ready, dress up fancy. Then when Daddy came home, he'd already be prepared in a suit. He, uh,"—with a pause, the human bit her inner cheek and smiled in spite of the gloss over her eyes—"he treated us like we were princesses. We'd go out to a big dinner, where he always ensured we got the best of everything. Those are some of my happiest memories with him, actually."

"I would _love_ to see you dressed up fancy," Michelangelo noted playfully.

Raphael kicked the younger Hamato's foot below the table, his glare half-meant. "Not before I do, Shell-For-Brains."

"Fond memories should be reminisced without pain, Nia-chan," Splinter said when she sighed.

"I know," Nia grumbled, tugging at her large sweater.

"Are you sad because your father hasn't planned anything for this year?" Michelangelo's question cut through his sister with its honesty, and the young woman licked her lips, shifting more.

"I—I don't want the tradition to die," she said morosely. "It means a lot to me, and I would like to share it with—with you guys…"

"Uh," Michelangelo raised a hand, "sorry; I don't own a tux."

"I—it doesn't have to be the same thing," Nia countered with a light laugh. "We could start our own tradition."

"Like what?"

The human shrugged, yet froze once she caught her boyfriend's stare. Raphael's smirk had fallen over the course of her story, and he remained stoic, even when her brows knit together in confusion.

"If it means so much ta ya," the Chūnin started, stiff, "shouldn't ya keep the tradition alive?"

"With Daddy?"

Raphael nodded.

"H—he wouldn't go for it with everyone."

"So do it like ya've always done it: with the three 'a ya."

"But—"

"Fine by me," Michelangelo added, his smile honest yet grim.

"Yeah," Donatello agreed. "Like we said, Valentine's isn't that big of a deal for us."

"You don't get it!" Surprisingly, Nia's voice rose and she slammed her fork down before its clang killed her pointed stare. In the new silence, she spared an apologetic look, though it was far from necessary in Splinter's eyes. "Guess I'm silly because I—I'm sucker for tradition. I really wanna do something with you guys, but I also…"

"Well," Michelangelo spoke carefully when he pushed around a single piece of cut chicken on his otherwise empty plate, "until Gavin's ready to, uh—ya know—then a family dinner's out of the question."

Raphael barely stifled his scoff, yet nodded once he crossed his arms. "Solution's simple. Until then, delay our tradition."

"I get it," Donatello said, calm. "If you put our tradition on the backburner and keep true to your father's, everyone wins."

"Ooh, we'll even name ours!" interjected Michelangelo excitedly. He lifted his three-finger hands as if laying out an invisible a sign, which 'formed' while he spoke towards it like an award's announcer. "The Day After Valentine's Hamato Tradition. DAVHT!"

"Someone in this clan's 'daft' alright," grumbled Raphael.

Michelangelo sent him a look that clearly spoke volumes of displeasure, although he reined in any comeback to give Nia a warm grin. "It may not be shared by everyone, but it's something, right?"

Nia opened her mouth—undoubtedly for protest. It remained slack for a good half minute. Then, she finally closed it, a decision prompted perhaps by Raphael's encouraging smirk or her own desire to continue what her father had started years ago.

"Is it really okay?" she asked.

"Seriously, Dudette," Michelangelo insisted. "Valentine's is a good thing you have with your dad, right? Considering everything that's happened…you should honor it."

"Honestly?" Donatello broke into the conversation somewhat bashfully. "I—it's refreshing to hear something positive about him. D—don't take it the wrong way, Imotou-chan. He hasn't betrayed us or anything, at least, but it—it…"

"It's nice hearin' yer good memories instead all the bad ones," Raphael finished, low.

"He did a lot with me," Nia said in an undertone. While it cracked, she managed a wholehearted smile. "Field trips. Camping. Ice Skating."

"Ice Skating?"

Michelangelo sniggered, and Nia flashed him a pout, saying, "Yes. Ice Skating. I can also pitch a tent, start a campfire, draft sculptures, identify itchy plants, and down an entire foot-long hotdog. Though the end of the day always left me with several bruises or rashes or cuts or stomach aches, it was all worth it. Because I did them with Daddy…"

"You spent much time with your father before the fire, did you not, Nia-chan?" Splinter spoke softly and even, although he was aware the tenderness could break the resolve Nia fought to keep. She spared him a small smile that died when their eyes connected. Then, she sighed.

"I—I did up until two or three years ago."

"Why?" questioned Michelangelo fearlessly.

"I—it was when my headaches were the worst."

"For three years?"

"Can we not talk about it?" As if a wrong string had been plucked, Nia's grin grew tense, somewhat bitter, and her body stiffened as she balled her hands in her lap. Those in the row opposing the artist were blind to their shake, but Raphael noticed. So he subtly placed one of his larger hands over them. Splinter frowned when Raphael squeezed gently, finding the prickling Chi of Nia to be a sour flashback of their early meditation lessons.

"A—alright," Michelangelo conceded. "S—sorry, Dudette."

Nia did not answer when the orange-masked Chūnin sunk back in his seat; she only lowered her gaze like she did not trust herself to answer appropriately.

"So,"—Donatello's awkward voice garnered attention—"now that, uh, _DAVHT_ is set and dinner's about done, how about we watch a movie before bed?"

"Oh! Oh! I call dibs!" In a flash, Michelangelo curled his legs, pushed his bare feet against the table's lip, then flipped backwards out of his seat.

The furniture fell with a harsh clap against the concrete, and it caused Nia to yelp softly. With both hands over her Yin-Yang necklace, she watched Donatello set the chair up-right again, except he never faced her. Once the youngest Hamato dashed for the entertainment center, the genius sent his father a look of mild exasperation. Splinter simply chuckled at their antics before gathering his eating utensils on his partly-clear plate as Raphael stood and cried out.

"Forget it, Dorkus! Ya picked last time; it's my turn!"

Donatello followed his hot-blooded brother to their DVD collection until the three of them broke out in a trivial argument only siblings could find important. Their voices melded into background noise in seconds, so Splinter struggled out of his seat to help clear the table alongside Nia and Melody.

The pressure placed on his ankles was startlingly painful once he stood straight and an expected weakness forced him to catch himself on the table before daring to pick up his dish. Unfortunately—no matter how well he hid the discomfort in his legs—a sharp hiss from his throat cemented what he feared: he would be forbidden to clean up after himself.

Melody's robotic arm crossed his downcast vision and when the plate was whisked away, the old master frowned. '_I cannot do something as simple as wash a dish? Ridiculous. I cannot let this cancer subdue me in such a manner. If Leonardo returns and I am…No. I must remain strong. Exercising the joints is best for them anyhow_.'

So, taking a deep breath that burned, Splinter used his cane to enter the kitchen. The young women were already compiling the dishes from the table, dinner and serving alike, and Splinter gently placed a damp washcloth in Nia's hand after she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater.

"S—Splinter-san—"

Splinter cut off Nia by shooing her close to Melody, who stared impassively at the short mutant. "I can handle this," he insisted. "You worked with Michelangelo to make the meal, while Melody-san—"

"I take proper care of myself," the semi-tan cyborg interjected. "I would not rust."

"She does shower," Nia added, smile cheesy.

But Splinter had already made up his mind, and shook his head. "I can do this. You wipe down the table then ensure the boys do not break another movie."

A crisp click rang out as if in support of the father's insistence. Melody drew her vision to the living room once Raphael cursed—though she hesitated before sending Splinter a wiry look and heading for the chaos Donatello tried to mediate.

"Y—you sure you're fine?" Nia asked gently.

Splinter ran a paw across her cheek, lowering it onto the dishes in the sink so its fierce tremble remained hidden. Such seemed sufficient an answer for the artist; she nodded then approached the table with the cloth ready for duty. From the kitchen, the master could see his entire clan at ease, the familiar picture of his domestic life.

It was one daily tradition he hoped would last forever.

* * *

_Imotou-chan_ = Little Sister


	2. Melancholy

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the reviews, guys. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. *hugs*

We are feeling better, D, and happy (be-late) V-Day to you too. Glad you enjoy family fluff because it isn't over yet!  
Haha, Amy. I think 'Nia is adorable' is the sum of the first 4 chapters of this story. Couldn't help myself; she insisted. :P  
About time Raph got the support role right, eh, Duckie? He and Mikey are my banter goldmine. But you already know that's just them. :D  
Splinter's a person too, Dragon_._ And in my world, he's a person not willing to go without a fight!

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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**Chapter 02 - ****Melancholy**

April O'Neil had spent the better part of an hour staring at the photo in her loose grip. Whether through enchantment or pensiveness or melancholy, she couldn't distance the memory—no matter how many times she told herself to. Her focus was fixed on how happy she and her lover looked side-by-side, and breathing grew increasingly difficult with every heave of her weighted lungs.

'_It's Valentine's_,' she thought grimly.'_I should be out with someone handsome, not sitting in my living room with most of the lights out…_'

How many times had she told herself that line as well? Equally as often. And it made just as much difference.

With a long sigh, April thumbed the photo's smooth gloss over Casey Jones' familiar face. It felt wrong. Though her fingertip followed his strong jaw line—which posed in a smirk—the texture was nothing akin to the Velcro-like stubble she knew grew there. Or maybe it no longer did. Maybe he shaved over the months.

'_Who knows? He hasn't been clean-shaven since we began dating. He didn't start a goatee until…I said I liked it…but he has said his face feels naked otherwise._'

Another sigh left the redhead without air completely. She fought for oxygen as she met Casey's bright eyes gazing back at her. Hidden deeply within his masculine features, they were a stark contrast of blue amidst scarred, tan skin and thick, black hair. Even now, she admitted how gorgeous they were, so she couldn't stop her finger when it trailed around them to his short ponytail.

'_Who would've thought I'd fall so hard for someone so scruffy…and stupid._'

Exactly. Stupid. Meaning she shouldn't be reminiscing on him.

He's the one who said he didn't want to get married. He's the one who ran for the other side of the country. He's the one who refused to call. So why should she give him a second thought after almost three months of separation?

Again, she should be out! But was she? No. Acting single didn't seem right, and she felt sure that if she forced herself to attend a bar or club, she would be more miserable than she was now. At home. In the near-dark. Looking at the man she wanted to forget, yet couldn't.

'_Something must be wrong with me…_'

Knock. Knock.

"April-san?" Nia's soft voice sounded muffled by the wooden door, which separated the artist from April's apartment. April breathed a sigh of relief having heard it—albeit barely—and finally gained the strength to bury the photo between the couch cushions.

"You know you can come in, Nia!" April called while standing. Still, the door didn't so much as jingle, regardless of how close the redhead neared. She opened it with an amused smile on her face, meeting the shorter female's sheepish look.

"I—it's rude to barge in," noted Nia as she tugged the red scarf tucked into her quilt coat's V-collar.

The smirking redhead chuckled and stepped aside to allow Nia passage into the apartment. "Seriously, girl? You're family. Act like it's your place."

"I always ask permission."

"In your own house?"

"If there's another living there, yes."

"What if they give you full permission?"

"They still need to open the door…"

April shook her head lightly when Nia paused by the side table closest to the kitchen then shut the apartment entrance. "Formality's really been drilled into you, hasn't it?"

"So—sorry," Nia countered, glancing around the dim-lit space, "I don't feel…right otherwise."

The older female waved dismissively in spite of the artist's inquisitive stare before heading for the kitchen. "No need for apologies. I'm only teasing. Now, what is it you wanted to cook?"

"Something easy yet appropriate," Nia said from behind. Her converse thumped against the wood floor hurriedly, and in seconds, she stood at April's side by the counter space.

"That's a tall order," the redhead retorted playfully.

"I know."

"Any ideas?"

Nia blanched. "Mikey mentioned a few before I left. I don't remember any of them."

"In that case…" Opening her upper cabinets, April surveyed the stock stacked across their high shelves. Most of it was spices and boxed goods; however, she mentally picked a few things that could be useful. "How about a fancy spaghetti dish? Garnished, it could look restaurant quality. And it's easy to transport."

"Sounds perfect!"

"Then go to the fridge and get out butter, garlic, and lemon juice. Oh, and tomatoes."

"On it."

After a firm nod, Nia stripped herself of her quilt coat, which revealed a deep red sweater-dress with a flared bottom and cowl neck. Its classiness was a little starling, yet Nia's obvious personal touches confirmed she had dressed herself. The cowl was folded downwards in a delicate off-the-shoulder look, and as she approached the fridge, April caught a subtle line of hearts printed on the back of her white tights.

'_Ready for the occasion, it seems,_' the woman thought while she found the appropriate spices and pasta boxes.

"Th—thanks again for this, April-san," added Nia beyond the fridge's open door. "It's really helpful."

"No problem; I know you need a buffer when it comes to these things," April retorted cheekily. "Though I'm curious why you wanted me instead of Mikey. You know he's a lot better than I am when it comes to the culinary arts."

Nia shut the fridge by bumping it with her wide hip then took small strides towards the counter to unload her arms' burden. "Y—you haven't been hanging out as much, so…I wanted to do something with you."

"This is a pity visit?"

"No." Frowning, the artist met April's gaze, seizing the older woman through a single, pointed stare. "I—I _do_ miss you. You barely leave the store. The only times you come to the Lair are for meetings about…Splinter-san. We make offers, but you…"

"Sorry," April whispered. She lacked strength to endure the hurt in Nia's teal eyes, so she searched the lower cabinets for a large metal pot to fill with water. She remained silent the whole time, and once she realized Nia's imploring stare meant a further explanation was necessary, a sharp pang ran through her gut. "I haven't been feeling well, that's all," she said over the faucet's rushing water.

"It's more than that," added Nia simply.

"Not really."

"Why else would you be sitting alone with the curtains drawn and only the kitchen stove light on?

"I—I had a migraine earlier. Really, I'm fi—"

A pale hand reached across the sink before April. It pushed the handle down, forcing the redhead to realize how far the water had risen before Nia spoke, "Did you forget I can sense emotions? Y—you're in pain. And you won't let anyone help."

"Nia…"

"It's a pain in my head and my chest," continued Nia softly. "Is this really a fraction of what you feel?"

"I'm here to help you make a nice meal for your parents, not delve into my depression."

"So you _are_ depressed."

"Maybe."

"April!"

"Stop it!" April raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, except the motion hardly earned her any composure under Nia's doleful expression. "I admit I'm depressed right now, but I'll get over it. Okay?"

"You—" Nia choked on her word as if a grapefruit were stuck in her throat. Then, she clenched her jaw, gripping her Ying-Yang necklace so tightly that the obvious reminder of Raphael's affection left a jealous sting in Aprils next words.

"It's a hard day; Casey always did something romantic and stupid. If you really want to help, drop the subject and let me cook spaghetti with you."

"Will you really be okay?"

God, did the whisper hurt. It swelled April's chest into a scoff before she could temper it. She turned her head aside when Nia's flinched, but the artist stayed quiet for several seconds.

"Mi…Mister Casey still hasn't called, has he?"

The redhead ran a hand through her shoulder length hair, gripping it. "No. I doubt he will any time soon, either. Maybe not at all."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. No. Maybe. I don't know." Sigh deep, April dropped her hand so it fell on her hip. "He's such an asshole, so I shouldn't even care. But…H—how did you do it?"

"Me?" Nia stiffened. "Do what?"

"Forgive Raph. He might as well have said he didn't want you."

"Honestly, I never wanted to forgive him." Nia answered forthright then addressed the food on the counter to organize them ideally. "I wanted to stay angry. Tell him off. Hit him. I wanted his heart ripped out like mine had been…"

"I…never would've picked up any of that coming from you," April remarked. She lifted the pot of water, partly-emptied it in the sink, and then transported it to the stove, where she lit the appropriate burner.

Nia didn't raise her vision from the boxes her fingers fiddled with, yet April could swear the artist's attention bore into her skull. "I don't like thinking that way: wishing hurt on someone else. But for a time, I didn't care. T—then…anger gave way to sadness. And all I could think about was Raph and his family."

'_Guess she can understand what I'm going through after all…_'

"I started thinking how I would continue," added Nia softly. "I didn't want to leave the Hamatos. I love them. However, avoiding Raph would be impossible. If I was to remain sane, I'd have to cut off all ties. Daddy thought I should. Yet I knew I wasn't strong enough for that."

"Or perhaps it's because you were strong enough that you didn't."

"In hindsight, that's probably it," Nia said with a wistful expression. She lowered the last opened box onto the counter then faced April so slowly that it was nerve-wracking. "I know your mind is probably racing a million miles a second. Mine was. Bet it feels haunting how you can't push him from your thoughts for even a day. And it aches when you think…he doesn't care."

"You fail at pep talks," April noted. Her laugh was more of an exercise to keep her chest from clenching, and she gathered the opened spaghetti boxes to dump their long noodles in the boiling pot.

Nia watched her work, pulling at her thigh-length skirt. "S—sorry. What I'm trying to get at is I felt like you do now. While you don't want company, it feels better if you have at least one person's help."

"Like Angel did with you?"

"...Exactly. She had to call three times before we introduced ourselves. But I'm glad I did. S—she's really nice and having someone outside the Hamatos helped clear my mind some."

"It's hard finding the energy to leave."

"All you have to do is tell yourself you're going to do it regardless. That's what I did when I decided to see the guys again. Of course, Mikey was supposed to pick me up, not Raph."

"He was pretty insistent, wasn't he?"

"It's partly why I was more willing to listen to him. H—he really wanted to work things out…"

"You've been together a few months. Try being as willing when you've done eight years together."

"Y—you make your relationship sound like a prison sentence. Was it a fight the whole time?"

"No…guess not. Just every day domestic things families go through. There was only a fight when kids and marriage came up."

"Oh…"

"He says he isn't ready. I understood that seven, five, three years ago, but now? Why _wouldn't_ he want a family with me?" April turned with a glare from the pot—though she soon realized the person speaking to her was twenty, not thirty. "Sorry, Nia," the redhead said when the young woman gaped for some sort of answer. "You don't have these troubles on your shoulders; I shouldn't place mine there."

"No, i—it's fine."

"It really isn't. So, I'll try smiling more for you, okay?"

"I want _true_ smiles." Raising a hand, Nia gripped the arm April used to stir the steaming pasta. "I forgave Raph because I knew he meant his apology and promised to be more open. And he has been. Before that, though, he had to get over a personal fear. Mister Casey's probably going through the same thing."

"Well, your bonehead conquered his fears a lot faster than mine may or may not be," April grumbled.

"My bonehead's a ninja," countered Nia, giggling lightly.

"True."

"Still, if my bonehead can do it, so can yours."

"You won't stop until I accept Mikey's invitation, will you?"

Nia flashed a sheepish grin at April's raised eyebrow. "It'd make us all very happy?"

"You sure you don't want to keep it couples only?"

"Then where would Mikey fit in? Come on, Valentine's has never been about just couples for me anyway."

"It hasn't?"

"No. And it never will. To me, Valentine's celebrates love as a whole, and what greater love is there than the love between a family? That's what I celebrate. And,"—pausing, Nia fiddled with a Roma tomato that matched the color of her cheeks—"if Raph wants to give me a few kisses, that'd be nice too."

"Oh, you sly thing you," April bantered while bumping Nia's hip with her own.

The artist released a nervous chuckle, yet kept smiling. "So you'll come with us, right?"

"Fine"—the redhead sucked in a sigh then met Nia's grin—"I'll go."


	3. Valentine's

A**uthor's Notes:** Last one was Sister Fluff. This time it's Anders Family Fluff. For those who know Gavin, this may give you a little hope. And for those who've been wondering about Mia, here's a little insight on what life's like for her. :)

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia, Mia, and Gavin Anders belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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**Chapter 03 - ****Valentine****'****s**

Nia Anders wanted everything perfect for Valentine's evening. And it was going well in her mother's quiet hospital room.

The artist smiled while standing beside the nicely-decorated electric bed, her cushion brush working through Mia's hair in slow, careful strokes. While the act was familiar, it also seemed strange. The thick locks had barely grown throughout the woman's coma because of a lack in proper nutrients, yet the haircut given by the hospital staff left it straight over her shoulders—rather than tapered downwards from the nape of her neck to below her chin.

'_Not only that, but she isn't fidgeting either,_' Nia thought before running her fingers over the backside of Mia's head. '_I've only seen her with one hair style in my life. I wonder if she'd let it get as long as mine…_'

Setting the brush on the small end table to the side, Nia stepped backwards, smiling. "There you go Misses Brown; it's soft and shiny, like usual." Addressing her mother's alias in such a formal manner felt unnatural; however, she kept disappointment at bay, unable to hide how thankful she was for Mia being awake. "I'd ask if you want your front hair pinned back, if I didn't think you'd say no. Is that okay, Misses Brown?"

Listless, Mia turned her head away from the dark window obscured by various kinds of lights and reflections to Nia. She blinked once then slightly furrowed her overgrown brows.

As the brunette stared blankly through pale brown eyes, Nia's smile grew strained. '_She still thinks Brown is a weird name, except her memories haven't come back. I'm just a stranger supposed to be her daughter in her eyes…_'

"U—uh, I know this all must seem real weird to you," added Nia, straightening out her red sweater dress. "Trust me, though. It'll be fun. I even have Italian food for dinner: your favorite!"

While Mia didn't show any promise of reply, her gaze fell from her daughter to a small clothes pile at the foot of her beige-striped comforter.

"Oh, that," Nia said while reaching for the pile. "I—I got you a new outfit when I bought mine. You really like Cardigans, so I got a brown one with a teal undershirt. There's also pants, which are more pajama-like. Would you…like to change?"

Again, there was no real response, save a slight motion of Mia's arms when she slightly lifted them. Nia knew from dealing with nurses it meant submission, yet the utter deadness of the act was heartbreaking. It wasn't a Mia-like action in the least.

Repressing a sigh, the black-haired artist abandoned the clothes to remove her mother's t-shirt. She couldn't help eyeing Mia's poor torso as she readied the under shirt. The healthy weight that insisted on sticking with the brunette for years was nowhere to be found on her usually curvy frame. It left her wide ribcage looking prominent, like anorexia, and realizing her lower half fared even worse brought a sting to Nia's eyes.

'_It's just the start. Remember, it'll take time…_'

"Alright, raise your hands," Nia instructed.

Mia did as commanded, though sluggishly. When her skinny arms slipped through the short sleeves, Nia pulled the shirt over Mia's head, tugging downwards towards her almost-misshapen hips. The young woman didn't let her attention linger on them long before she adjusted the sleeves and ignored how the V-neck collar showcased the woman's sunken collar bone. Instead, she grinned then added the airy Cardigan on top.

"It's a good thing brown and blue are your two favorite colors; they look great on you," noted Nia as she quickly brushed away some frizzy hairs created from friction with the shirt.

Mia glanced down to lightly skim her long, delicate fingers over the fabric of the undershirt.

"You know," the daughter set down the brush again then settled the long Cardigan around her mother, "you told me once that you had always liked blues, teals, but i—it wasn't until you met me that they became your favorites…I always thought you meant my birth because of my eyes…Guess, in hindsight, you meant a little further down the road…"

A deep inhale of breath drew Nia's attention up, except she wasn't met with a teasing smile or gentle gaze like her expectation suggested. Silent, Mia furrowed her brows further until she gave into the battle of confusion and unease inside her mind. The emotions left heavy weights on Nia's back, and when the brunette slowly reached for the pants across her bed, the daughter frowned at the how easily her mother dismissed questions about her identity.

"Pants next?" Nia questioned, a tad hurt. Mia only tugged at them, which signaled her answer. "Alright."

The young women kept quiet through the next motions. It was painful enough watching her father move Mia for physical therapy or to escort her to the bathroom, let alone handling the firm, slim length of her mother's legs personally. Removing her old pants went quick enough after she steadied the woman against her pillows, but pushing the new ones over Mia's non-existence butt and weak pelvis induced a nausea that Nia kept back by biting the inside of her cheek.

"And we're almost done," Nia muttered, frail, when tucking her mother's legs back under the plush covers. "Just one more detail."

The artist lifted something else from the bed: a necklace that once hid below the clothes pile. Gentle, Nia ran a finger over the weighty piece in her palm. The princess-length chain held up a beautifully crafted butterfly, whose brass body consisted of an elegant skeletal key. Its copper antennas were curled into the ring connectors, welded onto the top-most arch of the butterfly's nouveau-like wings. As Nia's thumb brushed over the wing's soft swirls, she felt a smile returning.

"Steampunk jewelry. Daddy says you fell in love with it the moment a co-worker showed you his daughter's project. It wouldn't feel right having a Valentine's dinner without your…complete look. D—do you mind?"

Funnily enough, Mia looked enchanted by the necklace, and eyed it well-after her daughter clasped it around her long neck.

"Now, outfits are all set!" Nia forced a laugh then tugged down the cowl collar that insisted on riding over her sloped shoulders. "I feared I would have to change after the tomato and oregano incident at Miss April's, but, thankfully, some quick response saved me. What's next…?"

Aware Mia wouldn't answer; Nia scanned the tidied area from the end table, across the generic couch, over the mounted television, to the nook beside the bathroom that harbored a small sink. The space was smaller than the last one Mia occupied, yet the warm, natural décor made it inviting.

"It's nice you kept a private room after you woke," said Nia without much thought. "This would be harder with the distraction of another patient…They wouldn't let me light any candles or incense, you know? So, I had to buy air freshener. Anything to cover up the antiseptic. Oh!"

Speaking of, Nia headed for the niche below the mounted television. The meal she had crafted alongside April now sat on three plates lined beneath plastic meal covers across what short counter space existed there. But those weren't her aim. Beyond them resided a plastic bag that she then opened. Once a cool cylinder can was grasped, Nia pulled it out and immediately began filtering the air starting by the window and working backwards.

Near the door, she ran into a solid form that forced her gaze upwards.

"Are you trying to make the air toxic?" Gavin Anders questioned. His sharp green eyes studied her sheepish smile through round, wire glasses, though they soon drifted towards the scene ahead, darkening. "What are you doing?"

"I—is there something wrong with a daughter visiting her parents?"

The tall redhead rounded her so he could place his briefcase beside an open chair. Mia returned his stare for a moment then touched her brown Cardigan, as if asking if it looked nice. Or maybe she realized again that she had changed. Memory lapses did happen often…

"I thought you would have other plans," the man remarked stoically. His hand ran over his wiry hair pulled back into a short ponytail for work, and he turned towards Nia when she ensured the door was closed.

"And break our tradition?" The dark-haired artist countered. Her father hid his reeling well, physically, but, emotionally, she sensed the deep flare of surprise and confusion. This gave her courage to smile as she waved the can. "I even found pine scented freshener; your favorite."

"It's not so freshening when you're choking on it."

"Beats hospital smell."

"It's the smell of cleanliness."

"And torment. I'd rather it smell like one of our camping trips."

Gavin flinched—a subtle action. "You think of our camping trips?"

"Of course," Nia whispered. "We haven't been on one in years because of my health, but…they're still fond memories."

A short silence filled the room as father and daughter averted their eyes from another, until Gavin steeled himself. "You _sure_ this is where you want to be?" he asked, prodding.

"Yes."

"You have a"—he twisted his neck—"_boyfriend_…wouldn't he want to—"

"Daddy, please." Nia spoke softly yet insistently, stepping forward until she rested a hand on her father's toned forearm. "Not today. I've already talked with them, and there was no doubt. This is _our_ day…"

A glimmer of hope prickled against Nia's mind, yet Gavin kept it tempered, as if ready for a prank. "Is that so?"

The daughter pulled on his suit jacket. "Yes. So, can we have this moment? I set up everything, save for asking for two more bed tables for the plates."

"What plates?" Gavin glanced at his short daughter, quirking a brow (probably against his will).

"For the dinner I made."

"You…made dinner?"

Nia blanched. "What's wrong with my family? I may've poisoned people once or twice, but I _am_ getting better."

"Still."

"Miss April helped me, okay? We tested it and it looks and tastes great. Thank you."

Gavin laughed into his fist. Nia sensed his hesitance at loosening up, although that resolve slowly waned when he caught his child's pout. One look cemented it: he longed for the quality time as much as she did. And before he turned to his wife in bed, she swore his broad shoulders hitched with thankfulness and relief.

"What do you think of that, _Carol_?" he questioned in all knowledge she wouldn't reply. "Our daughter's growing up and cooking meals."

"Ha ha, _Melvin_," responded Nia, playing along. She headed for the niche to put the freshener back then traced a finger around her Yin-Yang pendant.

"So"—Gavin's deep voice drifted suavely from behind—"are we going all out for this Valentine's?"

The daughter couldn't help smiling at how light her father sounded, and twirled, saying in a polite voice, "Of course, Sir."

"I have to make a quick trip, in that case."

"For what?" Nia glanced around the room a bit erratically. "I made sure I got everything. I even cleaned."

"You can get everything except for my gifts," retorted Gavin with a mild smirk.

"Oh…we don't have to go that far."

"It's all or nothing."

"Like usual." The artist's mumble was far from bitter, and she met her father's eyes easily in what felt like years. They held the gentlemanly charm she missed from childhood, so when he approached, she reveled in the comfort and memories.

"First, give me a moment for that trip," Gavin said before offering a hand. "It will give you time to set up the meals."

"And when you get back?" Nia added while placing her hand in his welcoming palm.

The redhead smiled, bowing deeply as he kissed her hand like a prince. "Then I would be honored to share my evening with you, Lady Nia," he noted, nearly too soft to hear.

Nia's reply wasn't any louder, and she refused to let go of Gavin's warm hand for several seconds. "As would I, Sir Gavin."


	4. Lambent

**Disclaimer**: TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 04 - ****Lambent**

Klunk made walking difficult for Hamato Michelangelo as he ascended the stairs. One trip and two near-falls later, the orange-masked mutant scowled—though he couldn't quite bring himself to address the orange feline reproachfully.

"Are you trying to kill daddy?" he asked.

Klunk mewed—a long, winey action—then gracefully hopped up the last step without a second thought. He dashed to Raphael's closed door like it was made of cat nip, and in moments Mikey stood by his swaying tail, smirking downwards.

"Raphy's been hogging her, hasn't he?"

The cat stared upwards from beside Michelangelo's worn sneaker. His yellow-brown eyes challenged his father to delay any further, while his arched, white muzzle twitched downwards into a frown. At least that's the message Mikey received; his brothers would probably send him looks if they knew the extent that he personified his pet. Sorry, friend.

'_Animals are their own people, too,_' the Chūnin thought, knocking against light wood. He received a faint response, so he cracked the door a little before entering to test if he had been given a green light after all.

"I'm dressed, Mikey-niichan," Nia said lightly.

"Just making sure," Michelangelo replied after slipping into the bedroom.

He noticed Klunk dart towards the human like an orange bullet, yet the mutant's attention was already fixed on the messy brick space Raphael called his 'domain'. Though the weaponry overflow was gathered in one corner to prevent any more accidents, maneuvering was hard for a guy with a massive shell. It felt cramped between the dresser squeezed in for Nia's extra clothes, a new full-length mirror, and Raphael's usual junk—on top of the larger art materials such as portfolios and canvases the artist stored there.

'_It's not the mess that's crazy; I'm messy too. It's the size…We barely fit the five of us in the Lair. At this rate, we'll need to find a new place._'

"Mikey, are you okay?"

Michelangelo tore his gaze from an unfinished charcoal draft protruding from one portfolio to Nia. She stood from where she had been petting Klunk by the unmade bed, her brows furrowed below side-swept bangs.

"Yeah, fine," the nunchaku master answered. "Ready?"

"Yup! Do you like my outfit?"

For full effect, the artist slowly twirled, giving Michelangelo a chance for study as she raised her arms. It was Nia's trademark winter ensemble: an oversized sweater and ripped jeans that revealed tights. These were naturally accompanied by color-coordinated Converse and at least one quirky accessory. For the occasion of DAVHT, however, everything had a theme.

Large, red hearts patterned the off-white sweater that draped over her wide hips, so a familiar pattern had been hand-drawn on her white Converse to match. The dark-wash jeans contrasted the red-pink tights beneath them, while her heart-shaped earrings glistened in the florescent lighting.

She looked cute. Really cute. And Michelangelo didn't realize she had stopped twirling until she caught his gaze by leaning down.

"Y—you sure you're alright?" Nia questioned, hesitant.

"It's nothing," Mikey insisted with a partly-forced laugh. After clearing his throat, he straightened while stuffing his hands into his puff jacket pockets (although he knew they barely fit).

The dark-haired artist cocked her head then pushed back the coarse locks she usually kept over her shoulders. Except she stayed quiet, imploring for a better answer by steadily staring.

"Hey, you just look cute." The mutant presented a lop-sided grin in hopes it would help. It didn't. Nia's teal eyes shined with concern as his grin faltered. Then, when realization sparked, she lowered her gaze.

'_Well, this isn't awkward at all._' Rubbing the back of his neck, the orange-clad Chūnin glanced away from her blush in an attempt to steady his erratic heart. '_So I still find her attractive. What's worse, she knows I do…Man, I was honestly hoping my brain would shut off this feeling once she and Raph got back together…Stupid brain._'

"U—um," Nia started timidly. Mikey almost hoped she would want to avoid or drop the subject, only her noisy intake of air signified otherwise. "W—we haven't really talked about…you…and…me…and th—the, uh…"

'_At least she's as graceful as I feel right now._' Still, he couldn't face her.

"H—how long did you have…a crush on me?"

The inquiry stung. Then burned. Then soured. The sudden stomach ache it roused felt akin to indigestion, so Mikey swallowed hard; partly to mask the gross taste in the back of his tongue and partly to garnish the needed courage to face the pale human glancing up shyly.

"That's, uh,"—weak, he clapped his palms together—"well, it's been a little while."

"How long?"

"A…while."

"Mikey!" Even Nia's reprimand was soft, though the emotion behind it held a weight that drew her dark lips downwards.

"Fine," the mutant relented. "Remember the time we talked after April told you about your adoption? And I found all those drawings of Raph?"

"Y—yeah."

"I think I liked you before then."

"Really?"

Mikey smiled at the disbelief in Nia's whisper; it was endearing. "It was kinda hard pushing you towards Raph, but I thought I was okay. When Angel came back, though…that's when I realized how much I _really_ like you."

"I—I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" The mutant released an easy laugh with no worries. "You can't help who your heart chooses. I mean, look at Don and Mel. Who would've thought those types would work out?"

"It took years," mumbled Nia, tracing the edging of her Ying-Yang necklace.

"Guess that's how love works. It'll probably be years before you find the perfect balance with Raph, too."

"That makes me sad, though."

Mikey quirked an eye-ridge. "Why? I'm sure you guys will—"

"I'm not sad for us, I'm sad for you." Nia blurted her words. And in Michelangelo's slight reeling, she tensed her jaw, unable to bite back a tremble. "I—it's not as bad as when I first found out, but I can tell…it still hurts. Wait!" Her eyes widened. "Y—you talked with Mister Splinter about this, haven't you? Before you joined us in the living room. W—when Melody was in her underwear."

Mikey wanted to snigger at the memory—Donatello's expression had been priceless—however, the sheer amount of truth pushed down his shoulders. "Sometimes, you can be scary perceptive," he muttered.

She frowned at him. "The jealousy began easing then. I—I'm sorry. I've been so preoccupied with Splinter-san that I haven't given thought to what you might—"

"Your attention is right where it needs to be," interjected Mikey flatly. "You recently started giving blood samples on top of helping your dad take care of your mom. Plus, you're tasked with being Raph's girlfriend? I'd say your plate's a little full, Dudette."

"But so is _yours_," she countered, drawing her arms close to her small chest.

"Really; don't feel bad about me having a crush."

"That's not what I feel bad about." With a low sigh that spoke volumes of exasperation, the dark-haired human said, "I feel bad because I—I can't help. And I know how frustrating and painful a one-sided crush is."

"Do you?"

Nia rewarded his croak with a single nod. "For over a year, I, uh, crushed on the tutor Daddy hired to help me through high school. Nick Nolan. I—I'm sure he probably saw me as nothing more than a dumb teen unable to complete algebra equations. But..."

"It didn't stop your feelings."

"No. Not until"—the young woman paused, her expression grave—"I started liking Raph."

"Don't tell me news like that," the orange-masked Chūnin jested as his hand playfully shoved Nia's shoulder.

She took a step sideways, yet to Michelangelo's dismay, her contorted features didn't ease. "I don't want you hurting like that."

"Me either. But like you said, there isn't anything you can do."

"Unless I set you up with someone."

The idea sounded ridiculous, and the mutant chuckled in spite of how contemplative Nia looked. "And they call me crazy."

The woman pouted in turn, huffing. "I'm being serious!"

"I know. That's what's funny." Mikey paused to shake his head. "Sorry, Nia, I don't need that kind of help. Besides, imagine the screening process. 'Do you have a sense of humor. Yes? Well then, how do you feel about a scaly lover donned in the finest of shells? He's a full-on ninja and has a habit of pulling pranks. Oh, and it was no joke about the shell thing.'"

Against any better judgment, Nia fell into a series of giggles. The smile on Michelangelo's face grew the higher her voice rose in an attempt to stifle it, and when she calmed down, she mirrored his amusement.

"I really envy your upbeat personality," she said, tender.

"We all have our thing; that's mine."

"And what's mine?"

"Hum…concern."

"Concern?"

"Seems about right. You're always worried about everyone's state of mind and want everyone to get along. And when we don't, it troubles you. Then again, how is that fair? You clam up your deepest fears."

"I—I try not to with Raph…"

"Ah, so, that's a couple thing."

"Yeah. S—sorry."

"Stop saying that!" Raising an arm, Mikey placed a hand on Nia's head to rub it. She glanced up with bright eyes, unsure, and when their gaze connected, a serious air broke though the humor. "You know you can come to me for anything, right?" the mutant said gently. "I'll always be willing to listen, especially if it's something about Raph. Because, if anything, you're my little sister."

"And you know I don't mean to hurt you by being with Raph, right?" the human retorted, just above a whisper.

"Of course," Mikey answered with a soft smile. "No more than Don means to hurt by having Melody. Give me time; I'll get better. So don't ever feel guilty about liking Raph, okay? He needs his lambent light."

There was a small pause before Nia blinked. "Lambent light?"

"Don't give me funny looks now; we're both on the weird train."

"But what do you mean by lambent?"

The orange-masked Chūnin shrugged. "It's just one of those random thoughts. Sometimes, I think of people as lights. We all shine, although in different ways. Like, Raph's a blazing, hot light. Leo's"—Mikey repressed a sigh—"a steady light; he's reliable. I'd say you and Donny are both lambent: flickering and soft."

"What about Melody?" Nia's eyes were lit by genuine intrigue, which lent the mutant strength to grin.

"She's pulsing: bright one minute then cool the next."

"Splinter?"

"Halcyon. Serene, comforting. The kinda light that puts you to sleep."

"And you?"

Mikey closed his mouth then gave a crooked smile. "Never thought about me. What do you think?"

"Hum,"—the long-haired human tapped a finger against her pointed chin—"I'd say…effulgent!"

"…Sounds like a fungus."

Nia snorted into her pale hand mostly hidden by her sweater's long, gathered sleeves. "It means radiant, and is often associated with joy, love, and goodness. It fits you perfectly!"

"In that case; I'm perfectly en-fungus!" Mikey posed. He didn't care how, so long as Nia laughed. Which she did. With the air cleared (again) from grimness, the nunchaku master seized its new playfulness like a lifeline then poked Nia in the shoulder. "Where'd you learn such a fancy word? Thought you haven't passed your GED yet."

"Ha ha," the human retorted, tucking long hairs behind her decorated ear. "And 'halcyon' isn't fancy?"

"Don't hate the player for noticing, Dudette!"

Nia quickly stuck out her tongue. "Literature isn't the issue. I haven't passed the Math section. Or Science. But I'll get there, thank you. It'll just be…after Splinter."

"No, no, no,"—Michelangelo strode forward to strongly wrap an arm around Nia's shoulder when she sighed—"it's DAVHT time. No depressing talk. Sensei's actually looking forward to a night of peace, so we should get downstairs before Raph—"

"What the hell are ya two doin' up there!"

Mikey flinched at his hothead brother's bellow. It rang clearly through the half-open doorway, rattling the senses like a horn blown in one's ear. Klunk—who had been doing who knows what—sought refuge between Mikey's feet in a panic. The youngest Hamato felt the feline's heavy weight against his legs as he patted the side of his head, over his ears. And he shared a sidelong glance with Nia.

"Your prince awaits," he quipped.

"Not a prince," Nia countered, serious yet light. She smiled while stepping forward then turned to face Mikey with gentle eyes. "Thanks for talking this out with me."

"Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

The artist hunched her shoulders, tilting her head a moment. "I was scared you wouldn't want to, so I'm glad you stayed."

Mikey forced Klunk up with a gentle shove then followed Nia towards the door. "Yeah. Me too."


	5. DAVHT (Part 1)

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 05 - ****DAVHT (Part 1)**

Eight thirty-two. Night. New York City. Things were that simple for Melody Gray.

She stood amidst her (as Michelangelo dubbed it) DAVHT group within Hecksher Playground, north-east of Columbus Circle. Human activity was slow, given the time, and so the five individuals were left in peace to occupy a small, concrete stadium. Melody eyed them from its paved center without any real interest, occasionally turning her head because her cloak and wrapped face often obscured her view.

"Dude, how long is April gunna take?" Mikey whined. His orange-and-blue-clad figure leaned further over the stadium's curved barrier to the point where his covered carapace teetered along its thick lip. His possible drop was hardly alarming; even at the highest point, the barrier reached no taller than the mutant's thighs. Not to mention the thickness of his skull…

"She said she had a stop to make first," Donatello added while seated on the stadium's top-most step. A waning crescent moon delivered insufficient light for a proper view of his features, yet Melody felt certain his eyes darted towards the light-roofed entrance pavilion past a narrow stretch of greenery. She also swore he sighed with worry into his scarf, down turning the cyborg's lips.

"I—I hope she didn't bail," interjected Nia beside the genius. Her gloved hands pulled her quilt coat closer at the waist. Then, she leaned against her dark-wash jeans and craned her neck towards the pavilion as well.

"Naw, she'd call," Raphael noted gruffly. Unlike the others (who sat), he stood between one of the 'lower' openings into the child-size stadium, his boot tapping the sloped asphalt like a constant, repetitive tick. His burly form shifted, and with a loud groan, Mikey pivoted his body backwards so he performed a flip.

"Dude, you've gotta loosen your shell, Raphy Boy!" he cried once on his feet.

Like a dart, Raph's shaded vision found his youngest brother. He growled in response, huffing as he leaned against the short barrier.

"A—are you really nervous being on ground level?" Nia asked, gentle.

The hothead was quick to jab a finger in her direction. "I ain't nervous! I just dun like sittin' out in da open when anyone can walk by."

"That's nervousness, Bro."

"It's almost nine," Don said over Mikey's following chuckle. "The day after Valentine's at that. Most festivities are over by now, so we shouldn't run into any families or couples."

"True!" The youngest Hamato vaulted over the barrier to meet his brother and punch his shoulder in play. "Besides, if any punks are roaming around, we know how to handle them."

"Dun mean this feels natural…"

Melody doubted anyone else caught Raphael's grumble; it likely wasn't meant to be heard, either. And before Michelangelo questioned what he said, Donatello stood suddenly and waved his arms high.

Call it instinct that Melody pushed aside the scarf wrapped over the cyborg section of her face. She activated her robotic eye's heat sensor first. When a lean human body was confirmed walking through the grass, the sensor switched to night then zoomed. Through its slightly-grainy image, Mel detected April's soft features. The redhead frowned at first, but when she approached the curb that dropped to the road ahead, she smiled.

Well, at least it wasn't a threat.

"Ape, what took ya?" Mikey questioned the moment April stopped before the stadium's 'top' opening.

"Geeze, nice to see you too, Mike," the woman shot back blandly. She huffed, yet returned the hyper mutant's hug.

"Didn't run inta any trouble, did ya?" Raph immediately followed.

"No, 'daddy'," the redhead teased, nodding towards Don then him. "I had a little difficulty finding—"

"Did you get what I asked for?" Nia's voice rose with such excitement that Melody would've believed the artist floated to the tote bag April held; if the thought itself weren't so illogical.

"These were a nuisance for something so small."

"I know, Miss April. And I would've gotten them myself if"—Nia curled a finger on the tote's outer side, tugging—"ya know."

"Seriously, that place is a hole in the wall."

When April relinquished the tote, Mikey inched closer and closer in intrigue. "What cha talkin' about?"

"Just wait a second, will you?" Nia asked with a giggle over her shoulder. She kneeled on the asphalt, rummaging through the tote, until Raph, Mikey, and Don loomed like a giant wall behind her. They cut out what little light the moon gave, so she pushed her back against the nearest brother's pants, saying, "You'll see. Go stand by Melody."

The trio groaned in unison like only siblings could, but listened. Mel resituated her scarf wrap while they flanked her right side, from Raph to Mikey to Don. Seconds later Nia turned, smile wide and arms hidden behind her back for so-called suspense.

"You're _killin'_ me, Dudette," Michelangelo whined. "What is it?"

"These!" Coat sleeves arched in a patch-work rainbow. Then, Nia displayed a variety of heart-shaped lollipops fanned in her grasp to show their various styles.

"Ooh, candy; my favorite!" Mikey spoke first, and the moment he stepped out of line, Nia shook her head.

"Not just any candy," she said, approaching Don. "Lovette's."

"I bet I'll love it."

"Wait your turn, Mikey," chided Nia not-so-sternly.

"I'm first?" Don asked, a finger at his parka.

"Why aren't I first?" added April from behind.

The dark-haired artist sent her a slanted smile. "You ate yours on the way here, didn't you?"

"…Maybe."

"So unfair," grumbled the youngest male.

"Back to Donny." Sticking her tongue out in concentration (though Mel doubted it helped), Nia maneuvered the stem of a dark heart upwards.

Don grasped it before it fell then brought it close for observation. "A brown heart. How…thoughtful."

"It's not just 'brown'. Try it."

Don hesitated.

"Would I do anything weird to you?"

"Possibly," noted Raph in clear amusement. "Mikey tends ta rub off on ya at times."

Don chuckled when the shortest female shot her boyfriend a pointed look. He met Mel's gaze with silly grin before shrugging, unwrapping the heart.

"So, what do you taste?"

The genius gave the candy a good suck, and Mel cocked her head at how his brow ridges raised. "It's coffee," he said with the lollipop still in his mouth. "Really good coffee."

Nia's smile was smug, rather strange on a usually meek person. She stepped to the line's end, by Raph, then gestured towards one lollipop with her nose. The black-clad turtle looked more than out of place when he pinched a dainty heart between his thick fingers. And its pale pink color betrayed his smirk.

"Strawberry?" he asked.

"Of course. And—"

Mikey jumped towards Nia in an instant, begging theatrically, "Please say mine is swirl. Please say mine is swirl. _Please_ say mine is swirl!"

A laugh followed as Nia handed him one of the remaining two candies. "Orange and vanilla."

"L—like cream-cicles?"

"Extremely close."

"You're the best sister _ever_!" Michelangelo's cry seemed unreasonably loud. And he wrapped Nia in a tight hug, jumping up and down in a manner that also seemed unreasonable. It was just a lollipop.

"And th—the last one's for you, Melody."

Mel stared coolly at the heart Nia offered. "I do not eat sweets."

An indignant scoff sounded. "She—correction: _I_—went through all that trouble to find that special pop," April interjected. "Don't be rude."

"Mel."

One simple word from Donatello kept Melody's mouth shut. Yet it didn't stop her eye from narrowing at the redhead, who crossed her arms in a clear challenge.

"Do—Donny told me you didn't," Nia added. Her timid voice drew Mel's attention back to the bright red heart the artist outstretched further. "It's cinnamon."

In that case, the cyborg accepted the gift, twirling its stem between her robotic fingers.

"Melody likes cinnamon?"

Don nodded towards Mikey. "About the only thing close to sweet that she'll eat."

"Yeah, I do notice she eats a lot of spicy things."

Mel met the orange-clad mutant's contemplative face. '_He noticed?_'

"Alright,"—April clapped, which sounded muffled because of her gloves—"Now that treats are out of the way, what do we plan to do?"

It was with mild amusement that Melody watched everyone glance at one another, as if expecting the others to give an answer. But no one spoke up. And April face-palmed, grumbling about 'the preparedness of Hamatos, even the newest ones'.

* * *

Not ten minutes later the group decided on a stroll through the playground, attempting to 'figure things out'—though Melody doubted any of them were serious.

"Well, my contribution has been made," Nia said cheerfully. She walked close to Raphael, closer than needs be. Then again, she was probably fighting the urge to slip her arm under his, as her vision kept finding his bicep.

"Ya make it sound like a tithe," the hothead added.

"In that case, I did my part as well," interjected April. The redhead flanked Donatello's left side, yet Mel found her arm's length distance too close for comfort.

Don sensed as much and gently captured her hand in the confines of her cloak. "We never thought about what we'd actually do on our, uh, DAVHT outing," he noted while secretly caressing the top of her robotic hand. If only she could feel it…

"I'd say whatever peeps do on V-Day, but that could get a bit _awkward_," Michelangelo quipped. He spun at the group's front to walk backwards then flashed a wide smile between his scarf and Trapper hat. "We need some inspiration."

Nia gave a little sigh. "I'm all out of ideas."

"Ya started this thing."

"I know, Raph. But after orchestrating things yesterday, I'm dry on plans. The lollipops signified my cap of planning."

"The notion fit," Melody contributed dryly. She stared forward, eyeing Michelangelo as he narrowly missed a park trashcan, though she sensed the round of unsaid questions. "While it was not chocolate, you handed sweets to the important males in your life. In Japanese culture, that is what a female is supposed to do."

"I—is it?"

"She's right, Nia," Donny answered. "Over half of Japan's annual sales of chocolate happen the week before Valentine's because so many females prepare for presents."

"But not all of them are heart-felt like yours," interjected Mikey, tone uncertain, like he barely recalled the topic. "Some are Giri-choko and some are Honmei-choko."

Nia sped up, so she walked between the nunchaku master and his older brothers. "What's the difference?"

Mikey glanced at Raph, who scowled, saying, "Hell if I know."

"Honmei-choko are chocolates given to love interests," Don contributed. "Like you giving something to Raph." A light blush graced the artist's pale face as she sent Raph a shy smile. The gruff mutant turned his head, causing Don to chuckle before continuing. "Giri-choko are 'obligation chocolates', which are given to colleagues, bosses, or male friends. The males return the gestures on White Day, March fourteenth."

"B—but my presents aren't obligatory to my brothers," countered Nia through pressed lips.

Michelangelo snorted. "You also aren't Japanese, Dudette."

"Still, it's your culture."

"Part," Raphael corrected. "We were raised with Japanese values."

"Yet we were born in America, so to speak," Donatello concluded.

"Besides,"—Mikey ceased walking a moment so he was closer to Nia—"this is DAVHT! Whatever tradition we start, goes. Don't matter if it's inaccurate, what have you."

"Speaking of traditions," April glanced over the group until she found Nia, "how did your day go with your parents?"

"Oh, so—sorry, I was brief on the phone, wasn't I?" replied Nia, somewhat abashed. She opened her mouth to follow up, except Michelangelo cut her off by saying,

"She told us all about it when she came home. Apparently, Gavin can smile. Did you know that?"

"Stop, Mikey," Nia chastised—a gentle yet sure action. Melody found it unintimidating all the same.

"Did he like your dinner?" April questioned as the youngest Hamato shrugged sheepishly.

"He did," Nia answered. "Even Mama ate half her food, which is the most I've seen since she woke."

"That's good."

"Yeah. I—It was nice, ya know? Though Mama didn't talk, it felt like everything bad that's happened suddenly didn't exist. Daddy and I agreed to ignore our, uh…different opinions. I—it may've been a simple escape, but that's okay because…"

"It made both of you happy," April finished.

Nodding, Nia offered a warm smile.

"Sometimes, an escape is just what's needed to push forward, isn't it, Mel?"

Melody returned her lover's light grin by staring blankly. Why was he asking her such a thing? Maybe he never expected a real answer since his grin widened and he gripped her hand tighter, looking forward again. '_I picked a strange one_,' she thought before her attention found Michelangelo. The orange-and-blue-clad Chūnin jumped on a park bench then a metal trashcan, pointing towards an iron fence ahead. '_Then again, there are stranger ones._'

"I spy the end of our park, guys," Mikey called. "Now what?"

* * *

"Y—you really wanted drinks to be your contribution?" Nia questioned beside Melody. The duo exited a small convenience store at a block's corner then hung a right, in the direction Mel knew the others were waiting.

"You contributed food, so why can I not offer drinks?" the disguised cyborg countered, not bothering with a shrug or frown while conquering the long sidewalk.

"Specialty food," the younger female insisted. "I wouldn't buy those lollipops on any other occasion."

"Then I do not understand your complaint." Subtle, Mel's vision fell from the night's slow traffic flow to the plastic bags both she and Nia carried. "You overtook the matter and bought flavors of soda I did not know existed."

"We got waters, too. Like you wanted."

The hooded woman shook her head. "I was asked what I wanted to do. I gave an answer."

"A—are you hot under all those layers?"

Guess a genius wasn't required to detect Melody's discomfort. Breathing was a little hard. And she knew a light sheen of sweat covered the fleshy parts of her body, though doubted half a face was sufficient proof of it.

"M—Melody?"

"It would be wise to drink water," Mel said simply.

"Ah, well…you don't have to drink any soda if you don't want. This is DAVHT, after all. And I know you don't like—"

"You bought me a Japanese soda. It had little sugar listed in the ingredients. I might like it."

Nia craned her neck sideways and up to send Melody a silly grin; the action couldn't be missed, even with the brim of a hood obstructing part of Mel's peripheral vision. The artist said nothing more. Perhaps she was learning the older female's limits. Mel felt bothered enough by heat to chuck the bottle if anyone teased her over it.

"And here's our, uh, turn." Nia halted by an alley between two low buildings, glancing upwards. "I—I'm not quite sure how I feel about climbing—"

"Oh, my! Nia darling?"

What an abrasive, overwhelming voice. Melody hardly had a chance to mentally cringe before she gazed down the bright-lit sidewalk. An elderly lady dressed in a lush fur coat and heels approached like a black bear fleeing the masses. Her vision was piercing behind large, round glasses—despite how small her eyes were—and her wide, painted lips were pulled into a smile that enhanced every wrinkle on her. Mel found its friendliness off-putting enough to bring Nia close. Just in case.

"It _is_ you, darling!" the white-haired creature continued. She held no shame, apparently, and brought bare, spotted hands to run them across Nia's soft features.

The artist flinched. "I—I—I'm sorry. Wh—who are you?"

'_She does not know her?_' Mel thought while gripping Nia tighter.

"Oh, look at me getting carried away." The woman laughed—a boisterous action that drew unwanted (yet temporary) attention. "How can I expect you to remember? After all, you were merely a child when the Anders adopted you."

"Chi…wait, are you?"

The elderly lady clapped once, nodding towards the artist's gapping expression. "Irma Flemming. I found you when you were a toddler."


	6. DAVHT (Part 2)

**Author's Notes:** Thanks, D. This chapter includes foreshadows. One of which you won't realize until much later...

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 06 - ****DAVHT (Part 2)**

The rooftops felt more secure to Hamato Raphael than the streets. Still, that didn't stop him from peering through the breaks of the rooft's metal fence.

"It's been, like, fifteen minutes, Dude," Michelangelo chimed from above. "Give them time."

"I'm just checkin'," the hothead countered, glaring up at his youngest brother perched casually on the fence's top railing. It was a wonder he could balance on his sneakers so long without fidgeting.

"Nia tends to take wrong turns," grumbled April, who leaned against the barrier. "I wonder—"

"Mel doesn't take wrong turns," Donatello filled in beside the redhead. "If Nia tried, she'd be corrected."

"Don't doubt that."

Even Raph could sense how deeply Don frowned, yet a loud, startling voice broke the tension. No, it wasn't Mikey. Its high tune outmatched his by a mile, and the group gathered at the fence's corner to see why someone would call out Nia's name so familiarly.

"Alright, who's the lady that skinned a bear?"

"I doubt that's real fur, Mikey—let alone bear," Don noted under his breath.

"Will ya two shut it?" Raph snapped, eyeing the strange sight.

Melody pulled Nia towards her moments before some old lady rubbed his girlfriend's face like she was searching for a significant mark. While their backs faced the group, he knew the dubious look Nia sent. And she did so with reason. '_This old bat looks like she belongs at some foreign fashion show as a judge. How does she know Nia?_'

"Chi…wait," Nia's voice carried softly on the wind, "are you?"

The wild lady clapped then nodded, saying loudly, "Irma Flemming. I found you when you were a toddler."

There was a harsh gasp from Michelangelo that was soon silence by a round of shushes.

"Now look at you, Darling," Irma continued when Nia remained speechless. Her long hands ventured over the artist's face again like one of those overbearing grandmother's on television as she grinned. "I wasn't sure at first. You've grown so pale. Ah, but the eyes. The _eyes_ don't lie."

With a breathy sigh, Irma cupped Nia's face to stare close into (what certainly was) Nia's wide gaze. "The perfect balance of blue and green. And the outer ring is still dark brown. So gorgeous; it's wonderful they haven't changed as well. Oh, but I guess they have, in a way, haven't they?"

Irma chuckled, though didn't give Nia a chance for a reply. "They aren't nearly as fear-filled. Which is so good, Darling. I was worried, you know? You were too scared to play with the other children and I dreaded you would isolate yourself forever. But the Anders must've been so loving, like I knew they would. And look here, you have boyfriend? You _doll_!"

"A—actually—"

"We are quite busy," Melody interjected. Raphael reeled a moment at how deep the cyborg's voice resonated, near his level.

'_Wait, is Gray playin' along with the boyfriend assumption?_'

Irma gave the tallest female a series of quick nods then stepped sideways, touching Melody's shoulders, collarbone, and then hood brim with prying fingers. "So built, you lucky girl. Yet I feel I have seen his face."

Melody jerked back when the stout older woman pushed her hood aside, and she took Nia with her.

"Bianca…"

"I—I'm sorry, Miss Flemming?"

Irma's head shook dramatically, chuckling or giggling or something to that degree; Raph couldn't place it. "Forgive me, darlings," she gushed. "He has strong features to a young teen I worked close with years ago. Though, she had a daughter, not a son. Anyway, I _had_ to stop you."

"For what?" questioned Melody. Clearly, her patience was waning. And Raph could empathize.

"I saw the work she did at Baker's hotel."

"Y—you did?" Nia asked, stiffening as Irma straightened her crazy glasses.

"Of course, Darling! Baker and I are friends, and I meant to call this weekend. I want you to work for me."

"R—really?"

"Really!"

"Me?"

"Yes!"

"Wh—where?"

"At the Foster Services, of course."

"Th—the services?"

Raphael slowly shook his head when Nia flailed, although he couldn't help smirking. '_My girl an' her articulation._'

"You simply must say yes; I will not accept no, Darling," added Irma while digging through a purse that her coat practically ate. After securing a small business card, she forced it into Nia's hands. "I call this weekend. You come to my place before then, okay? Okay. Ciao!"

Nia weakly waved goodbye to the lady that fearlessly crossed the street. In seconds, her form rounded the opposing city block, leaving the two females in a small pause of silence.

"She means to call…after you visit," Melody said in her normal voice.

"She's, uh, sh—sh—she's something, huh?" Nia glanced up at the cyborg. "Wh—why did you let her think I was your girlfriend?"

She gained no answer—merely a stare—so she followed Melody into the alleyway, where she hesitated at the slender fire escape. Raphael stood, fully prepared to escort her. Except Melody captured the artist in one fluid movement, bent at the legs, and then pushed upward with a power she hardly displayed anymore. One kick off the opposing building vaulted her over the iron fence and when she landed, the roof crackled, Nia held bridal style in her arms.

"Ya tryin' ta sweep my girl off her feet?" Raph questioned with a smirk.

Placing Nia down, Melody countered with her own smirk. "Maybe I am better at it than you."

"Is that a challenge, Gray?"

"Oh, we don't have time for challenges," Michelangelo interrupted. He rushed towards Nia to lift her high and twirl her, not taking into account the heavy plastic bags she carried. "Nia's got a new job!"

"I—it's not official," Nia countered when the youngest Hamato winced at a bag that hit his head then lowered her.

Mikey snorted. "Please. She told ya you're working and I know you wanna. So."

"I'm not even sure what she expects."

"Art."

"Ha ha, Mikey."

"Just don't say this is another DAVHT Day tradition"—Mikey paused for a shrug—"some of us may have a hard time following."

Nia sent him a playful smile, though April spoke before anyone else, calm. "As nice as it is to have another job, you should be mindful, Nia."

"What do you mean?"

"She knows you as Nia Anders."

"Right," Don said, "to keep up your alias, you're going to have to convince her to call you Sarah Brown."

"That sounds fun," Nia grumbled. "I—I'll cross that bridge when it comes. Thanks for reminding me, Miss April; I forget my alias half the time…"

"I know," remarked April, tone teasing.

"DAVHT is turning into quite the night, isn't it?"

Everyone faced Michelangelo, who grinned with his arms akimbo.

"Dude," Raph started, bland, "we've sat in a child's stadium, eaten heart pops, walked a playground, an' gotten sodas."

"Not exactly a wild night," Donny concluded.

The orange-clad Chūnin shook a finger at his siblings. "That's not the point. Point is we're doing it all together. However, if it's wild you want"—a sly grin accompanied his half-lidded eyes—"I call dibs on the next contribution."

* * *

They just had to open their mouths, didn't they? Of course, they were brothers; teasing one another was expected. It didn't mean Raphael accepted Michelangelo's 'contribution' to DAVHT. Seriously, party hats? This was an 'after Valentine's' deal, not Halloween!

"You know the rules, Raphy Boy," Mikey chided cheekily. He shifted in his Indian style position, pointing across the pile of playing cards between them. "Hat doesn't come off until you've won a game!"

Raphael immediately cursed, tugging the corner of what he knew was a rainbow arched over his wide head. "I know," he grumbled. "I started this game ta get this damn thing _off_."

"And you've failed to counter my contribution. How tragic."

"It's hardly a contribution when the girls gotta pay for it."

"I don't mind," April added in clear amusement. She had won the third round, so her hat—a collection of pom-pom's made to resemble an afro—rested at her knee.

"Besides, sending them off to the party store gave us the opportunity to find this great place!"

Donatello shook his head, which bobbed the red tip of his Doctor Seuss hat. "It's an unused greenhouse on a condemned apartment building, Mikey, not the Taj Mahal. And we needed to sweep shattered glass aside."

"Details, Bro. We're out of the wind, aren't we?"

"That is a plus," Nia added softly. "I was starting to question if I had a face."

Raph huffed in her direction, though when he caught her grin, he remembered the whole ordeal wasn't so bad. The over-sized accordion flower strapped to her head matched her Valentine's apparel. In all honesty, it looked natural for her. And cute, which is why he had to fight a smile—to keep Mikey from saying anything.

"Nia, you could have used that card," noted Melody. She didn't bother crouching where she stood behind the artist, but her gaze focused on Nia's spread of cards.

"W—wait, which card?" Nia asked as the cyborg uncrossed her arms to rub her temple. The lithe human had stripped her coverings as soon as possible, and since she won the first round, she no longer donned the hot-dog hat that Mikey had handed her half an hour ago. Lucky…

"Hey, no helping," Mikey reprimanded lightly. "We all must win fair and square."

Don's gaze settled on him. "Or win and ignore the rules."

"Hey, I like my hat. Guess I could've picked someone else to take theirs off in my stead, but this is too fun." Laughing, the orange-masked Chūnin rocked his head so the bells on his jester hat dangled. Raph growled at the sound. "You picked the game, Raphy Boy. Not our fault you keep having to pick up the pile."

"Him and me," Nia lamented.

"You think that's bad?" Donny asked. "Trying maintaining a three to four card average and still coming in third or second."

"But you aren't the…what did you guys call it?

Mikey flashed Nia a sheepish grin. "We won't go with the male title. Let's pick a different one, a nicer one to commemorate DAVHT."

"Shithead still work for me," Raphael muttered.

"Language, Raphy. Now, a name. Oh, Lovebug!"

The hothead shook his head. "Uh-huh. No way."

"But it fits Valentine's."

"This is my part 'a DAVHT, right? An' I say no."

"Come on." Mikey sent a pointed look over the game in progress. "We love Nia, but she's sucking about as bad as you right now. Do you really want to dub her a Shithead?"

Raph opened his mouth, quickly glancing at his girlfriend, then scowled. "No. But we ain't goin' with Lovebug."

"Then what are we gunna call the game?"

"Heartbreaker."

"Alright, whatever you want."

Michelangelo shrugged before finally continuing with his turn, yet the game halted again when April's laughter suddenly escalated. '_What's with her?_' Raph thought as the redhead bent forward, hugging her gut like she was watching Comedy Central. She lifted her head from her knees to possibly explain then ducked it again while the mirth increased. Everyone kept silent a moment, and Raph was sure it was because they sensed what he did: while her shoulders bounced with amusement at first, the action soon led into muffled sobs.

"April?" Mikey questioned first.

Nia, who sat closest to her, placed a hand on her hunched back, silent.

"Yo—you know, I didn't want to come, right?" April asked while bent in half.

"What do you mean?" Donny added, careful.

The redhead kept her head down, despite his clear hurt. "I wanted to stay home. Didn't feel like going out. And I honestly didn't think I would enjoy myself. Y—you guys…have enough to worry about without my troubles, so I tried ignoring Nia. But she wouldn't let up."

Raph met Nia's teal eyes when she confirmed the confession with a nod, and his insides clenched at how he didn't realize April's discomfort.

"I—I'm glad I listened to her," April continued, straightening a fraction. "This has been nice. Never knew how therapeutic brother banter was."

"We do need our daily dose," Mikey noted with a grim smile. It died quickly, so he was forced to face their older sister without it. "You really didn't want to come?"

"Don't take it personally," April said lowly. "I haven't wanted to do a lot of things since I came home…"

"B—because of Casey?"

Raphael half-way expected a snap, a glare, or a shove. Yet the redhead only sighed deeply, glancing from Mikey to Don to Raph then Nia. "Yeah," she admitted in a defeated voice. "I—it's not like any of you can solve the issue. I don't want you to either, so no scheming. I just, uh…I'm sorry, I was hit with a sudden realization and couldn't help myself."

"What realization?"

Slowly, April craned her head towards the youngest Hamato, speaking gently, "I'm so thankful to have you as family. Even when I feel at the bottom of a barrel, I can't help smiling with you."

"I'll take that as one gigantic compliment," said Mikey while performing a shallow bow. "Anyone else?"

Raphael nodded alongside his family. Well, save for Melody, who was quieter than usual. '_Surprised she's got nothin' ta say. Usually, she's very opinionated about April…_'

"Thanks, guys," April whispered.

"No problem. DAVHT is all about family love, right, Nia?"

The dark-haired human smiled then nodded in turn, wrapping an arm around April's shoulders. "I'm glad you came too, Miss April."

"Stop calling me 'miss'. We're essentially sisters, right? So call me April."

"Or"—Nia glanced at Donny—"Anee-chan?"

"You want to take after Mikey?" April asked.

"No, I want to practice my Japanese."

The females giggled.

"Is this night full enough for you two now?" Mikey directed at Don and Raph.

The red-masked Chūnin sent him a smirk, but Don spoke. "Quite."

"We still need your contribution, by the way."

"Oh, my requirement?" Laying his cards his lap, Donny glanced over the curious group. "If I have one, it's that no one's allowed to go home until we're all happy."

"Well, _I_ won't be happy until I get this _thing_ off my head," Raphael growled towards the genius.

Mikey sniggered then placed down one of his three cards. "Guess you better start winning then."

"Oh, believe me,"—Raph reveled in his smirk—"I will."


	7. Aeonian

**Author's Notes:** Last for this special. Kinda important is you care about Don and Mel.

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 07 - ****Aeonian**

Hamato Donatello halted in a wide culvert then glanced at his galoshes set ankle-deep in the slow moving water. Although thankful his feet were chilly instead of freezing and wet, he still frowned while vainly wiggling his scrunched toes. Their stiff nature roused a sigh across the crisp air, and he didn't hide it from the person he approached at the culvert's bright end.

"They are no worse than your sneakers," Melody remarked evenly.

Don fixed his parka's collar when she didn't face him, placing a bare hand in his pocket to fiddle with a wide yet shallow box in it. "Not true. My sneakers are broken in, molded. They're like a cocoon. Whereas these"—he pointed sternly at the shoes eating his pants—"are like boards."

"Then why did you buy them?"

"Rain isn't going to stop you from coming here, and water isn't going to stop me from joining you." The genius smiled, pleased by the cyborg's faltering composure. She fought a smile for all of a second before succumbing, so the almost bashful look she gave the rising sun left his stomach aflutter. "Besides," Don added, gentler, "I haven't given you your Valentine's present yet."

"Donny," Mel started.

Having expected as much, the mutant raised his free hand before she sent him a troubled look. "I know; you've never liked the Holiday. But maybe I can change your mind."

"With a simple present?"

"Yup."

"If you had one, why did you not give it to me yesterday?"

"Are you kidding?" asked Don with a deep chuckle. "Heartbreaker went on for two hours after April, uh…"

"Broke down?"

"Melody."

The blonde returned her lover's pointed stare with a flat expression. "It is an accurate term."

"I know," Donny conceded, glancing at the sun-lit cityscape. "And, don't take it personally, but thank you for not saying anything."

"What could I say? I had nothing to offer…"

'_Which is a good and bad thing,_' thought Donatello grimly. '_Support would've been nice. Though…no snide remarks is progress in itself._'

So, with such in mind, the purple-masked Chūnin inhaled. "Raph never won a round, and we were all exhausted by DAVHT's end."

"Those reasons sound like excuses." Quick to the wick, just like the woman's sudden glare.

An amused smile spread Don's wide mouth, even though an annoyed Melody Gray was hardly a laughing matter. "Partly. I didn't want to introduce gift-giving to our new day and, well, it's more of a private exchange anyway."

Mel remained quiet a moment before quirking her dark brow and asking, "What did you get me?"

Donatello teased the thought of drawing the anticipation out. That is, until he imagined the pain of Melody twisting his arm behind his carapace to gain information. She was about as impatient as Raphael, so, deciding he liked how his limbs were attached, he produced the box from his pocket.

The short-haired cyborg reached for it without a word, running a thin, robotic finger over its red gloss. She tore the sheer ribbon off as if it were made of tissue paper instead of heavy-duty fibers, and after removing the lid, her listless face softened with mild confusion.

"I, uh, I ordered these a while ago," the bō master began while stepping forward. "Just after Christmas. They're custom made, so they're unique to us. And took a while to arrive at April's."

"And what do they mean?" Mel spoke quietly, hindered by a touch of uncertainness and hope.

Maybe Don's conscious projected on the matter, but he swore her emotion brightened the purple flecks in her blue-gray eye—enhancing it with the enchantment of a nebula. He was careful to keep eye contact as his large hands reached the box to remove two silver bracelets, and he fought the urge to kiss her before he reminded himself that he should explain first.

"A ring would be pretty inconvenient for you, wouldn't it?" he inquired softly.

The cyborg gaped then glanced at the different sized bracelets once her lover placed them in his palms for display.

"I imagine it would get wedged under your knuckle guard or lock up your joint all together. So, I went with what I thought was next best."

"B—bracelets?" She probably couldn't help her stutter, and such added endearment to the action.

"Since neither of us are big jewelry fans, I kept things simplistic. They're stainless steel for durability. Quarter-inch thick. Inch wide."

"What are, uh,"—Melody cleared her throat, not daring to glance up from where her fingers studied the smallest bracelet—"these markings?"

"Do you like the design?" Don countered. He followed his lover's finger as it traced the indented pattern made of swirls and geometric shapes until it reached the bracelet's blunted end.

"Is this…an owl?" Unable to hold back, Mel picked up the piece, bringing it close to her contemplative face.

"Yes," answered the genius smoothly. "Represents knowledge and wisdom."

"In Native American standing."

"Which is what the bracelets are based off of. Of course, Mikey and Nia added a few Japanese elements, too, like subtle Kanji."

The cyborg glanced up. "They designed this?"

"I needed someone to help me figure out what to do," Donny answered with a light snort. "When I told them the only artistic things you enjoy are Native American, they took off."

"So," Melody gripped the bracelet tighter, "these are really…?"

"Marriage bracelets." The mutant nearly choked on his own whisper. But he maintained composure, taking the box from Melody to force it in his pocket with less interest than when he left the Lair. His gaze settled on the larger bracelet in his palm then the speechless young woman, who stood unmoving in the water. "You should read the inside inscription."

The suggestion sparked recognition and Mel shook her head a moment before lifting the bracelet in the sun's soft rays. She squinted through the warm light, yet read aloud, "Aeonian."

"It means eternal."

"I know what it _means_." Whether she meant offense or play, her glare felt non-threatening, so Donatello grinned. "I've used it to describe struggles."

"Yes. Many times."

"And you engraved it here because…"

"I thought it needed a new application…I—it's not too sentimental, is it?" Don watched Mel's moves carefully—particularly how her brow eased in a placid motion. He pushed down a sudden rise of worry until she lowered her arms to meet his eyes again, when a pit of another kind formed in his stomach.

"I like them," the young woman answered lowly.

"Enough to marry me?" the genius quipped.

Mel sent him a long, serene look before smirking, coy. "You married me by last year's end, Mister Hamato."

"True, but this should've been first." Don couldn't care less how silly his grin looked; he gently exchanged his bracelet for Melody's then gripped her left wrist with care. The cyber suit donning her shapely figure left her arms exposed, so his eyes traveled her arm's robotic features to the elbow—where it melded into nutty-toned flesh. "I want to do this as right as I can for now," he added while thumbing the bubbled scars at the transition.

"For now?"

Donatello nodded when Melody blinked. "We have no judges or documents or legal proof of any kind; however," the mutant tugged the cyborg close so he could run a hand down her strong cheek, brushing the beauty mark under her organic eye, "I can't help hoping that might change in the future. I know, you probably think it's silly. But leave me to my dreams."

"That could be dangerous," Mel retorted while laying a hand on Don's parka.

Donny chuckled then added in a more serious voice, "This is as official as I can be with you."

"I'm not a grandiose girl, Damn Mechanic. These…are more than enough."

The fact that she meant her words wholeheartedly swelled Donatello's chest with a tingling sensation. Silent, he maneuvered Melody's bracelet so her left wrist slipped through its thin opening. He squeezed as hard as possible when it settled over her metal, for security, then didn't fight the cyborg's lead as she grasped his left wrist. After pushing up his sleeve, she slipped the bigger bracelet around his naked skin before squeezing it with little effort. Her hand lingered a moment then squeezed again when she faced Donny, wordless.

"I promise," the mutant started, "I'll never deliberately hurt you again."

"But you may hurt me?" Mel countered, although breathless.

"We'll fight. You know that. But I won't stop loving you or supporting you. And I won't let anyone hurt you, either."

"Likewise. If someone even attempts to, I will rip them in half."

Don had to shake his head and snigger; it was the only way to preserve the mood since he knew Melody was dead serious. "You're a Hamato now," he said in an undertone. "All you have to say is 'I do'."

The cyborg's playful mood brought a sly smile to her large lips and she snaked her arms around Donatello's neck to whisper against his mouth. "I, Melody Gray, take this Damn Mechanic to be my husband."

"You know, a false name leads to nullified contracts."

"It's your name." She laughed.

"Just you wait," countered the mutant once he encircled the cyborg's defined waist, "I'll come up with something clever for you."

"I won't hold my breath."

"Bet I can make you hold it."

The two paused as their humor died down—drawn first by one another's gaze through the sun's orange rays then the undeniable spark between them. Donatello eased into the action meant to cement their exchange without any qualms, and tilted Melody's head back to deepen the kiss she started. Even if he were to run out of air, he had no intention of letting her go: his wife, his aeonian family.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** There you go: a little family fluff special, filled with a few important topics. Next story I'll be posting is "_Cause Worth Celebrating_". Hope to have that started by March 2nd next week, with a new chapter posted every 2/3 days. Thanks for reading.


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